


Shotgun in a Stolen Car

by Chancy_Lurking



Series: Felix+ [3]
Category: Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Pre-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 20:50:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10839198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chancy_Lurking/pseuds/Chancy_Lurking
Summary: "Look, Felix may not understand science or politics, but he understands loyalty, alright?"(Felix learns about Will and worse.)





	Shotgun in a Stolen Car

**Author's Note:**

> [singing] This is my final final's season and I should be doing anything but this but I write when I'm stressed out so here we go.
> 
> I haven't seen the new season.

Felix has got blood running down his nose to the collar of his shirt and his heart is practically beating out of his chest, but he still takes a moment to ask. “Ok, so which one was that?”

Adrenaline has never once made his hands shake and babbling has never distracted him, so he doesn't let them start now as he hotwires a Volkswagen, ignoring the irony of the act.

Wolfgang doesn't turn to him, answers half over his shoulder as he keeps an eye out, gun held carefully hidden behind his leg. “Which one was what?”

“The fighter,” Felix says, then curses and laughs when the spark catches his fingers as the engine comes to life. He jumps into the driver’s seat, hardly waiting for Wolfgang to round the car before throwing it into gear. “They fight different than you,” he says, jerking out of the spot as soon as Wolfgang’s door shuts, “like they actually know what they're doing, not just how to be a bruiser.”

Wolfgang stops halfway through a motion to flip him off, but it isn't the broken finger that does it; pain has never stopped him before. Felix notices out of the corner of his eye that Wolfgang sits up straighter, his gaze becoming an easy sort of observant, instead of the usual sort of flickering calculation. “My name is Sun,” he says in a tone Felix has never heard before, a fact that makes his heart race more than it already is. “I am a…” her mouth quirks, a wry and yet proud smile, “professional underground kickboxer. Turn left at the light.”

“ _Sun_ the boxer _,_ ” Felix sings and his grin must make him look like a lunatic, with blood in his teeth and fire in his eyes. He shoves his hand in her direction and takes the turn nearly on two wheels to get through the yellow light. It makes him bizarrely happy when she takes his hand anyway. “You’re wicked. I’m Felix.”

“I know,” Sun says and doesn’t specify which part of that she’s agreeing with, looking at him with mixed amusement and exasperation. “Wolfgang thinks of you often.”

Felix can tell she said it so neutrally, so without thought that Wolfgang didn't have the chance to cut her off. It makes him laugh when her eyes look up into the rearview at the back seat, eyebrows raised as if to say, _well, you do_.

“You know, Wolfie, I’ve heard this story several times,” Felix looks at Sun, looks in the rearview, confused about where to focus, not caring a single shit, “I'm beginning to think you have a crush.”

Sun smirks, but then her face falls flat, oddly intense. “Slow down and wipe your face,” Wolfgang’s voice commands, “Button up your jacket.”

“And player six enters the game,” Felix says and drives with his knees to do as he’s told, and says for what feels like the hundredth time. “I’m Felix.”

Wolfgang’s chuckle was throaty and odd as he nodded. “Will. Good cop,” he answers, then points down the street. “Can’t vouch for the guys in the unmarked up ahead.”

“You’re a cop?” Felix says, feeling his hair stand on end, before laughing at his own fear. The cop in the robber’s head; if he wanted them, they’d already be fucked. “What a fucking riot.”

Will laughs as well, tensely. “Let’s hope not,” he says, “Flying out of a different airport was a good idea.”

Felix side eyes him. “We’re not amateurs.”

Will’s side eyes him back. “No, but now you gotta shower and ditch the car before your flight,” he responds, he holds up Wolfgang’s hands. “And you didn’t wear gloves. Sinking it in the drink won’t solve that part.”

Felix looks down at the blood he’s left on the steering wheel, doesn’t give Will the satisfaction of knowing he’s got a point. He trusts implicitly in Wolfgang’s ability to get them out of any pinch by the skin of their teeth. “We’ll manage,” he says, giving Will a genuine, if slightly manic, grin, “Always do, fed.”

“I’m not a fucking suit,” Will chuckles, then goes all tense, shutting his eyes. “Don’t talk for a sec.”

Moments later, Wolfgang’s eyes open and go vacant, seeing something that isn’t outside the glass of this car. Felix looks over in concern. He’s never worried about a police officer’s safety a day in his goddamn life, what a fucking mess. Eventually the set of Wolfgang’s shoulders changes to something uncomfortable and tight, wrapping his arms around himself and bowing his head. He mutters something quietly in Hindi, something that sounds like a prayer.

“Can he hear me?” Felix asks.

“Not right now,” is the soft answer. “It’s just me.”

“Kala?” Felix keeps his eyes straight ahead as he slows down at a yellow light, consciously not looking over towards the plain cruiser to his left. He’s wiped his face, but it wouldn’t pass close inspection.

She shuts her eyes and nods.

Felix is stung by the unabashed pain, unfamiliar on Wolfgang’s face. He thinks to reach out towards her, offer some comfort, but is unusually aware of himself. She seems skittish and Felix has blood drying on his face. She may like him, but he knows what he looks like. He scrubs his chin on his shoulder again.

“Is he hurt?” he asks.

Kala dips her head in a tiny nod, almost like she doesn’t want to admit it. “They have got to move again,” she says to Felix, then to the back seat, “I do not know where they are now, but they need to _leave_.”

“Are we picking them up?” Felix asks. He’s a flexible sort of guy, they can work that into the plan. They have enough money to last at least a year or two without work if they’re careful, so a pit stop isn’t out of the question. “Can you get an address?”

When Kala turns to him, her eyes are bright and hopeful, but they get smothered almost instantly.

“You can’t ever meet me, man,” Will tries to say firmly, but his speech is slurring.

“Why?” Felix asks, “Why are you talking like that?”

“Bad Guys got t’ me,” Will answers with a dry laugh, “Been druggin’ ‘em out of my head.”

Felix tenses as he hits the gas, fear cold in his chest. He chooses not to think about what kinds of drugs you’d have to take to lock out head-mates, instead focusing on what that must mean. “Can they see us right now?”

“No,” Will answers and Wolfgang’s head dips unsteadily towards his chest. “Not unless I see you.”

Felix doesn’t like that, doesn’t like the tired resignation on his friend’s face—because that _is_ his friend’s face, regardless of who’s inside. “The fuck kinda cop are you?” he asks, “You’re gonna go belly up, let ‘em gut you like a pig?”

Will’s eyes look closer to Wolfgang’s when they snap up to his. “I’m not a _pig_ ,” he snaps vehemently, “and I’m not giving up. I’m trying to _protect_ you.”

“Yeah, and I want to—” for _fucks_ sakes, _cops and robbers_. What is he saying? Why is it true? “I’m trying to protect _you_.” He looks in the rearview, approximates where Wolfgang’s perspective might be, “You got crooks on your side, fed. We’ll be badder than the Bad Guys if we have to.”

Will’s sleepy eyes slide away into Wolfgang’s determined fire, the sort of light that bristles with something like pride.  He explains it later once they’ve gotten changed and bought their tickets, with his head bowed, twisting a soda bottle in his palms. Felix understands the story to be true as much as the rest of it. Eyes being the window to the soul is not a maxim, it’s a fact; for people like Wolfgang, like _Will_ it makes walking down the street a fucking risk.

Look, Felix may not understand science or politics, but he understands loyalty, alright? Whispers is a traitor to his own kind and, more importantly to Felix, a traitor to _Wolfgang’s_ kind. He’s the exact sort of man Felix hates and he’s on a million dollar war path against people who can’t even look him in the eyes without risking the lives of everyone they love.

Felix doesn’t know how he feels about being one of those people.

Or that’s not quite right. He doesn’t know _all_ of what he feels, but—

“I’ll look at him for you,” he says neutrally, but when Wolfgang looks at him, Felix knows he can see the simmering rage behind his eyes, the peeling back of his general mellow, the rising up of his fierce protectiveness. Is it Love? Who knows, maybe, _probably_ , it doesn’t matter, it’s loyalty. He and Wolfgang lock gazes with undying faithfulness and complete understanding.

Felix has every intention of looking Whispers dead in his eyes before he puts a bullet in his skull.


End file.
